Powerless
by ShutUpAndPull
Summary: Rick has a visitor who encourages him to visit Kate post-shooting (3x24), and while he isn't certain it's the wisest idea at first, the rewards prove him wrong in the end.
1. Chapter 1

Rick had spent the entire day at the precinct again, his eyes left weary from another round of poring over everything they had on Kate's shooting, which, though it never curtailed his efforts or his drive, still amounted to little at all. After electing to walk the city's streets most of the way home, he stepped into his building's elevator for the loft, his eyelids falling gently shut in one of the rare moments of quiet his hours and days now afforded him, before the image of Kate's wounded body in the grass once again pierced the calm like the crack of a summer storm's thunder against the night. It haunted him with a savage ache, the vision of the tear that'd trickled from her eye as she'd screamed without a sound for his help, but that's what he had now, that and a declaration of love lost to the darkness at the hand of vengeance. Kate was gone from her job, from her friends, from her home - from him.

The chime noting his arrival chased the unwelcome rumination from his mind and Rick stepped out into the hallway, his body nearly colliding with another as he moved. "Sh-I'm sorry," he huffed as he fumbled for balance. "My fault, I wasn't paying attention." Once he managed to straighten up and regain focus, he realized who he'd almost knocked over.

"Hello, Rick," Jim said, more coolly than it seemed the near mishap called for.

"Mr. Beckett," Rick replied with a measure of audible surprise. "Is everything all right? Is Kate-"

"Katie's fine, Rick," Jim interjected, noting the rapid turn towards worry. "I apologize for just showing up like this, but I was hoping we could talk if you can spare a few minutes."

"Of course, of course, come on in," Rick agreed, leading the way towards the loft. "I was down at the precinct today, actually," he said, as though that day had differed from any other. "Have you been waiting long?"

"Just a little while," Jim said as the two headed inside. "I thought I'd give it a few minutes, just in case. I was actually on my way back out when you…well, when we met at the elevator." The grin in his words was most obvious and most appreciated.

"Well, my splendidly graceless form aside, I'd give that meeting a ten," Rick joked with a shaky chuckle. "Can I offer you some water or something else to drink?"

Jim politely declined and followed him over to the bar as Rick grabbed a bottle for himself, his throat already uncomfortably dry from the surprise of the visit. The last time Kate's father had appeared at his door, Rick had done what was asked of him, foolishly believing his words might actually change her mind. He'd confronted her and it'd ended badly, and at the end of all of it was a bullet with her name on it. Now he knew she was alive, and that was it. That was it because she wanted it that way - to be away from him.

"Katie's having a tough time, Rick," Jim said, forgoing any further small talk. "She'd never come out and tell me that, but she doesn't have to. I may not know everything that goes on in my daughter's life, but I do know her, and I can hear it and I can see it."

Rick set down his half-empty bottle and leaned back against the edge of the bar. He knew nothing at all about what was going on in Kate's life, not anymore, and it had his insides in knots. "I thought you said she was fine. Are the doctors-"

"It has nothing to do with doctors," Jim interjected with a mix of concern and frustration. "It has nothing to do with her physical recovery from the shooting at all. She's actually beyond what they'd expected by this point." He exhaled a soft chuckle. "Katie's just like her mother, driven and defiant."

"Don't I know it," Rick concurred, reverent but playful.

"She needs to see you, Rick," Jim said with a brisk change of tone. "She's in that house alone every day with nothing to do but think about what happened. I don't want that moment to be her life now. She's already carrying her mother on her shoulders. From what I've heard, you've been able to let some light in when she needed it. "

"Mr. Beckett, I-"

"Call me Jim, please," he insisted. "I hear how she talks about you. I know what you must mean to her."

Rick swallowed hard, did his best to push down the pang of anger he felt every time he thought about her being gone. "Jim, look, I wanted to help her through all of this. I wasn't sure how the hell I was going to do it, but I was going to be there to try, and then she left." He drew his hand through his hair, an outlet for his frustrated energy. "She left without a word about when or where or why, so, apparently, she _doesn't_ need me." It killed him to say those words out loud, but he believed them to be true, absent any contradictory evidence. "And, to be honest, I'm not sure she ever has."

"Rick, you've done more for Katie than I could hope for. You're a smart man. I know you can see that," Jim said, brushing off the foolishness of the notion. "If that wasn't the case, I wouldn't be here right now." He reached into his pocket and pulled something out. "Whatever her reasons for leaving the way she did, whatever did or didn't happen between the two of you, please take this and think about it. She may be angry with me for doing it this way, but I can live with that because she's what's most important."

Jim extended a small piece of paper and Rick took it as he considered his words. Kate had become more important than almost anything else in his life, and no matter how much hurt he felt, he understood that he was powerless against that reality. "It's beautiful up there," Rick said, studying the address written on the page.

"Tell her I love her," Jim said, sensing he'd accomplished what he'd set out to.

 **xxxx**

"Are you sure about this, Richard?" Martha asked as he crossed the room towards her, duffle bag in hand. "Oh, well, I see you've packed a bag, never mind," she followed without a beat, answering her own question with a mark of discernible dubiousness.

"You're an actress, Mother, try and act supportive," Rick replied gruffly, dropping his cargo onto the bar and his phone and keys into his pockets.

"Hey, kiddo, you listen to me," she bit back, commanding his attention with her tone, "you're looking at the head cheerleader of Team Richard, so you can go ahead and save that attitude for your next book chapter, all right? It's a mother's duty to ask such questions and now I have, so that's that."

Rick slid around the counter and planted a kiss on her cheek. "I'm sorry, Mother. I didn't get a lot of sleep last night and my head is poundi-"

"You're in love, Richard. There's no need for further explanation. I know what it's like and what it can do. I was young once, too."

He wasn't sure about any of it was the truth. He wasn't sure why Kate had left or why he hadn't heard from her when she said she'd call or why her father had shown up at his house last night and insisted she needed to see him. What he was certain of was that if what Jim had said was true and he didn't go, he'd never forgive himself. "You'll always be young, Mother," he assured her with as much of a grin as he could muster. "Tell Alexis I'll call later."

"I will, darling. You be careful, all right?"

Rick grabbed his bag from the counter and kissed her cheek once more. "I will, Mother. I'm an excellent driver, don't worry," he said, heading for the door.

"That's not what I meant, dear boy," Martha spoke softly as he moved away.

Rick heard the words, but never turned.

 **xxxx**

Rick finally drove slowly up the driveway towards the house after sitting idle for a long moment at the mailbox out front, the crackle of the rocks beneath his tires no match for the echoing thump of his heart. The weeks without Kate had felt like a lifetime, one, since the day he'd met her, he never wanted to experience, and the realization that she was right there, behind walls he could now see, in that moment made all the pain vanish.

He pulled up out front and turned off the car, stepping from it with marked gratitude of his muscles, and he let the warmth of the summer sun ease some of the stiffness from his shoulders. The cabin was just he'd imagined from Kate's recounted stories: modest and welcoming - from what little he knew of Jim, a perfect reflection of its maker - and the silence that enveloped it near divine. The city felt like another world already, and as far as Rick was concerned, that was a blessing.

He felt the butterflies in his stomach as he approached the short staircase to the porch, much as he had as he'd pulled open the door to her hospital room weeks ago. Nothing about the minutes that'd followed had been what he'd wished for or expected, and there he was now, facing the very real possibility of a like outcome, though, this time, with diminished hope already settled into his heart.

He knocked and waited, his breaths rapid and shallow as he heard the footsteps breaking the stillness. "Castle?" was all Kate managed to verbalize, any remaining shock from seeing him left written all over her face.

She looked achingly beautiful - still, somehow - but Rick didn't say it. He just let it wash over him as he always had. If he'd been seeing her for the first time in that moment, he'd never have believed she'd just walked through such an unfathomable hell and come out the other side. "Hi," he said, his voice soft with affection. "You know, I was just driving by and thought it'd be rude if I didn't at least stop by and see how you were doing," he teased, humor ever the comfortable fallback. She smiled gently, though he could tell she tried not to. "Hi," he said again, taking her in after too much time apart.

"Just driving by, huh?" she echoed with a deliciously familiar sarcastic timbre. "All those bestsellers and you can't afford a GPS that works?"

Rick traveled her up and down as subtly as he could. "Actually, I think it worked perfectly." Kate hummed in playful acquiescence yet said nothing. "Okay, well, may I at least use your bathroom before you point me in the right direction and send me on my way?" He could feel the sun on his back, but all the warmth radiating through him was the result of her eyes locked on his. She turned and stepped back inside, the door left open for him to follow.


	2. Chapter 2

Rick pushed the front door closed behind him, and when he turned Kate was gone. The open living room he found himself in was bathed in sunlight from the glass of the opposite wall, its shadows like a giant abstract mural in a pattern that mimicked the angles of a kaleidoscope. He took a single step and stopped, his nose catching the scent she'd left in her wake - the scent of her, the one he'd so often carried home on him at night and wished would never fade.

"Bathroom's down the hall, Castle," Kate called out from a position he couldn't see from where he stood, stirring him from his abstraction. "I know it won't be easy for you, but try and resist the urge to snoop."

"Wh-Hey, you're the detective here, not me," he replied sassily. "You're a professional snooper. I'm just a guy driving by who's had too much coffee." He managed a quick glimpse of her as he moved towards the hallway and the kitchen came into view, her gentle smile one he chose to leave with her and without comment.

The bathroom was dim and he immediately flipped on the light, the tiny room without benefit of any natural source. Kate was there with him, too, invisible yet palpable; the air felt like her and smelled like her and instantly reminded him how different he felt inside when she was around him. She wasn't like any of the others, hadn't been from the very beginning, and how foolish he felt that he'd waited until that moment on that day to express it - that horrible goddamned moment.

He twisted on the left faucet and let the water warm, his hands grimy from a gas station stop along the way, and he gave himself a look in the mirror. He hadn't noticed them when he came in, in his brief hunt for the light switch and his buzz from Kate's smile, but they caught his eye in the reflection and he recognized them straight away. The dried flowers were tied together with a white lace ribbon and fastened to the wall, the peach and orange hues muted yet still beautiful with time. He'd brought them to her in the hospital - a gesture, he'd later imagined, lost in the jungle of bouquets she'd been gifted by countless well-wishers during her stay - yet there they were, cared for, preserved, and on display.

"What's that face for?" Kate asked from her new spot tucked against the corner of the couch as Rick emerged from the hallway. "Didn't go as you'd hoped?" she followed with a soft exhale of a chuckle.

He watched for a moment as her lips met the edge of a steaming mug, her eyes still fixed on him. He could've kicked himself for not thinking to bring her coffee, but, to be honest, thinking hadn't been his strong suit since Jim had shown up at the loft. "Moonlighting as a comedienne up here, are we?" He moved towards the opposite end of the couch but didn't invite himself to sit. "Sure, I can see how you might be bored, what with all the fresh air, glorious nature and enviable silence all around."

Kate kicked her feet up onto the coffee table in front of her. "Yeah, well, you can't imagine the amount of free time a gal can find in a day when murder isn't butting in." She set the mug between her thighs and drew her hands through her loose hair. "You gonna sit, Castle? You're making me nervous."

"I wasn't sure if…I didn't…" he sputtered ineloquently.

"Sit, Castle," she insisted in that tone he so missed. He rounded the couch and dropped into the opposite corner, as she waited for words that never came. "So, since it doesn't seem like you're going to tell me, I guess I'll have to put my cop hat back on for a second and ask you what you're doing here. And how you even know where _here_ is."

Rick didn't want to toss Jim under the bus, of course, but there really was no other non-creepy way to explain his unannounced appearance on her doorstep. Still, he couldn't help but feel a bit of shame in the fact that a bestselling crime novelist couldn't see his way out of a sticky situation with anything more than the simple truth. "Well, Detective Beckett, I can definitely answer one of those two questions," he said, playing along. "I, um-I found out where you were from your father - Jim."

Kate's lips parted, but it took some time for actual words to come out. "Yes, thank you, Castle, I know what my father's name is," she snapped.

"Right, sorry."

"You called my father?" She slid her legs off the table and leaned forward, elbows at her knees. "I told you I needed time to process everything, Castle," she said, "but I guess I should've known you wouldn't respect that."

Rick pushed himself up from the couch and stepped away for a much needed deep breath before turning back. "First of all, thank you for your faith in me, Kate. I mean, we've only known each other almost four years, how could you possibly trust me, right? How could I possibly understand, right? It's not like I've been there every day doing everything I could." He pivoted away again. "You still just can't see it," he mumbled louder than intended in his discomposure.

"Can't see what exactly, Castle?"

"And second of all," he continued, moving past her inquiry without acknowledgement, "I didn't call your father. Your father came to me, Kate. He came to me and he told me you needed to see me, and foolishly I wanted to believe him – probably because I hoped one day that might actually be true." He paced back and forth over the same few feet of floor as he considered whether or not he should say anything more. "You know, you left, Kate. You left and you didn't say a word." He couldn't do it. He couldn't keep it in anymore. He had no idea if he'd ever have the chance again, all things considered. "I lived through that day, too. We all did. All of us who care about you lived through that day, too. And all I wanted was to be able to help you. All I wanted was-"

"Rick," Kate interrupted, but, seeing the look on his face, managed nothing more.

"All I wanted was for you to see that I love you, Kate," he confessed for the second time, sounding almost entirely hopeless. "But you didn't want to see me."

He had to sit down. He had to sit down immediately or he thought he might drop to the floor where he stood. He opted for one of the two chairs opposite the couch, both for its proximity to him and its distance from her, since he could barely process his own reaction to what'd just happened, let alone hers having been on the receiving end of such a ridiculous outpouring.

Kate hadn't stopped watching him, and he could feel her eyes on him still, though he fought mightily not to reciprocate, due either to his embarrassment or his fear or both. Suddenly, he didn't know which was worse: having declared his love and her not remembering it or having declared his love in a rant like a lunatic, knowing she was fully aware of every second of it. She didn't need any of this right now and he knew it. She'd very nearly died - as close as one could come to it - and he couldn't possibly understand the weight of that reality.

"I should go," Rick said, breaking the ensuing silence, waffling on whether or not he actually wanted to. "I don't know why I came here. I'm sorry," he told her as he pushed out of the chair and back on to his still somewhat unsteady feet. Halfway to the front door he stopped and looked back over his shoulder. "Your father told me to tell you he loves you. You shouldn't be upset with him for telling me where you were. I should've known better - surprise, surprise."

He all but mumbled the final two words, imagining Kate must be doing the very same, though he couldn't see her face, and absent any interference from her, he pulled open the door and stepped back outside, the unfiltered afternoon light like a slap in the face rather than the welcome comfort it'd been when he arrived. He could practically hear the 'I told you sos' as he shuffled to the car, all of them his own, all of them earned, and none of them easy to swallow. He reached into his pocket for his keys and they slipped from his hand to the ground.

"Don't go."

He wasn't certain whether or not the words were in his head or if he'd actually heard them, though he couldn't imagine his mind being that cruel.

"Rick, please."

He scooped up his keys and turned to find her out on the front step. "I'm sorry, Kate," he said again. "I really didn't mean to-"

"You don't have to be sorry, Castle. And you don't have to leave." She moved down the second step and onto even ground. "I don't want you to leave."

He wanted so many things, and they all swirled in his head when she looked at him that way. "What _do_ you want, Kate?" He stretched a hand for the hood of the car for balance, utterly unprepared for any answer at all.

"Will you come back inside with me?" she asked, the words so simple, the gesture anything but. "There are things I need to say." She watched as he slid his keys back into his pocket.

Rick nodded without a word. He knew he'd already said too much.


	3. Chapter 3

Rick found himself unable to gauge Kate at all, and as much as he understood that was customarily the comfortable playing field on which she played, his deft insight into her character offered little in the way of consolation in the moment. He knew the why of it. He knew why she hid so much of herself away, why she wore her work like armor against the world, why vulnerability was a state she disallowed and feared; loss wasn't a foreign concept to him, but a loss as profound as hers was one he could only imagine while living in the universe of his books.

"Thank you for staying, Castle," she said, as though he'd done her some kind of a favor, as though her appeal wasn't exactly what he'd hoped for when he walked away. "I'm sorry about what I said. I didn't mean it, truly. Do you want to sit?"

Rick chose not to separate himself from her again, but rather took the spot on the couch where he previously had been, as she settled back into her own. She'd curled an elastic band around her hair since he'd left, yet several unfettered strands still hung wild in delicate frame of her face, begging in silence for his fingertips. "It's really good to see you, Kate," he told her, chastising himself mutely for not yet saying so. "It's been hard, not knowing how you were. I've hated every minute of it, to be honest."

Kate looked away with his words, her reserve a result of both the attention and the regret simmering within her. "I know, Castle." And she did. She felt the very same. Her head and her heart battled each other constantly over the distance she'd wedged between them. No matter the sound reasons or rationalizations she'd employed to convince herself to go, there was also a part of her that felt like a coward, because she knew precisely what she was running to, and what she was running from.

"I'm glad you're doing so well. Your dad said the doctors are hailing you some kind of super-patient in your recovery. Is there anything at all you don't do well?" She laughed aside the compliment and the sound made his heart dance.

"I've missed you, Castle," she confessed earnestly. "I've missed laughing with you."

"Well, I'm sure you meant _at_ me, but yeah, me too," he concurred jokingly. He'd hardly laughed in weeks.

Kate cleared her throat, her voice already beginning to falter absent a word. "Rick, I need you to know how grateful I am." A tear began to roll from her eye and she brushed it away defiantly. "I wouldn't be sitting here right now if it wasn't for you."

Rick leaned forward, his elbows at his knees. "You got shot, Kate. You died that day. I was too late and you got shot and then I watched you die." He hadn't fully faced it yet. He hadn't allowed himself to fully confront the plaguing guilt he felt over her taking a bullet as he stood by, so close physically yet seemingly so far emotionally after their argument.

"I didn't die, Castle. I'm right here," she said firmly, pushing herself nearer to him. "You cannot carry the burden of that day. They did this," she insisted, her fingers atop the scar concealed beneath her shirt, "not you, not me, _them_." Her hand found his thigh in empathetic alliance, as though the action were common, as though they touched each other in that way always, without thought or premeditation. "Please tell me you hear what I said, Castle."

Rick glanced down at her hand and then back up at her. "And where is it you are, Kate? Where is right here, exactly, because I haven't heard a word from you since the hospital and I've been waiting." She didn't pull away, even in the face of his sharp tone, and he could feel the warmth of her touch beginning to radiate through to his skin. "You told me you had things to say. I want to hear you say why it is you couldn't tell me about this, why you ran away, why your father's knocking on my door asking for my help instead of you."

Her eyes were filled with tears, yet she watched him fixedly through the blur, his grief painfully evident. "I just…I didn't know how I was supposed to be me there, Castle, because I felt like I didn't know who that was. I didn't know how I was supposed to move on with normal life when I felt that broken and that confused. I woke up in that hospital bed and my whole world had changed again, and I needed to be somewhere I felt tied to before all of that, somewhere all the bad hadn't touched." She allowed the drops to cascade down her cheeks this time, her body still connected to his by way of her hand. "But what you said, Castle. I've thought about that almost every minute of every day."

"What I-"

Kate finally pulled back as she prepared herself for a reaction she both anticipated and feared. "I know what happened that day, Castle. I've always known what happened." Her voice grew softer. "I've always known what you said." He released a profusion of emotion in one exhale of breath and moved to stand, but her fingers caught his wrist before he was able to step away. "Please, Castle, don't walk away."

"I don't walk away, Kate, you do, remember?" he snapped, regretting it instantly. He looked down at her and she met his eye. "I shouldn't have said that. That's not-"

"I did walk away, Castle, and you said what you felt. I understand." She loosened her grip and he backed up, perched himself along the couch's edge. "But I don't want to do that anymore. I'm tired, Castle. I'm tired of fighting the things I want because I'm afraid of what that might mean. I'm tired of moving through my life like I have all the time in the world to change things, because I know I don't. This scar," she said, pulling at a button of her shirt to expose it, "is my new reminder of that."

Rick couldn't turn away from it, though one's natural inclination might be to do just that. It was savage, the emblem evil had left upon her skin, yet, at the same time, magnificent in its ultimate failure to dim the luminescence of its target. Her heart had been spared and that was all he could see, and though it lingered in its own perpetual state of fragility from years of sorrow, he knew it could never be overtaken by such barbarism. No matter what the circumstance, the Kate Beckett he knew would never let that be.

"I'm sure you won't believe me, but I think it's beautiful," he told her, wanting both to laugh and to cry. She pulled her shirt back into place and he slid back down onto the corner cushion. "God, I wish you'd told me, Kate. I wish you'd talked to me. I would've still hated your being gone, but I would've understood." He shifted sideways to face her. "Look, I can't take back what I said; it's the truth and it's been the truth for a long time. But the last thing I wanted to do was push you away. I said it because I wanted you to know I was standing with you, Kate, in that moment more than any other, and that I always would."

Rather abruptly, she pulled the elastic band from her hair, settled it around her wrist, and stood, reaching for her mug as she moved. "Stay with me a bit longer, Castle?" she said more than asked.

"Kate, wh-" There was more he wanted to say.

"I don't want you to take it back, Castle," she told him softly before turning away, her hair cascading along the line of her jaw, preventing him from seeing her face. "Come and help me."

He rose to follow without another moment of thought. That was all he'd wanted.


	4. Chapter 4

Kate had her knees pulled up against her chest as she balanced on a stool at the kitchen counter, banished there when Rick proclaimed he'd best take over lest injury befall one or both of them. The area was functional but small and its workspace limited, and while the intrinsic romance of its close quarters wasn't at all lost on his imagination, that door hadn't yet been opened to him in any unambiguous terms. He'd heard what she'd said, of course, her recognition and acceptance of his declaration, but he also understood, knowing her as well as he did, that the only thing he could possibly do now was to resignedly follow her lead.

"You know, when I asked for your help, Castle, I didn't mean kick me out of my own kitchen and take over," Kate said playfully as she eyed with mute appreciation his surprising prowess with the chef's knife.

"Man, you really hate to let anyone do anything for you, don't you?" Rick bit back with equal tone. "It's just veggies, Detective; please, let the master work in peace. Besides, it looks from here like you're kind of enjoying it," he said, splitting another mushroom with pompous flair. "The cop doth protest too much, methinks."

"Oh, please, that enjoyment you _think_ you see is actually starvation happening right before your eyes. I mean, has it ever taken this long for a human to prepare a salad?"

Rick dropped the knife onto the cutting board and tossed the hand towel he'd draped over his shoulder in her face. "Hey, do you want this salad done quickly or do you want it done right?"

Kate flipped the towel back at him with an impish grin. "Just sayin', if I was here alone, it could've been both," she muttered, stretching her legs to the ground. "And your water's boiling, chef," she told him with a point of her finger for added effect.

Nonplussed, he looked back over his shoulder and grabbed for the box of pasta. "So, when it's boiling it's _my_ water? I see how it is."

She couldn't help but let out a laugh. "I really have missed you," she said, her voice soft with affection, his back turned as he attended to the pot on the stove.

Rick poured and stirred and stepped back to the cutting board. "Sorry, did you say something? I couldn't hear you over the din of my magnificent feast."

She rolled her eyes emphatically, as she so often did in his presence. "Yeah, I did, actually. Too bad you didn't hear it, though. It was very complimentary," she teased wickedly.

"Well, I guess you can owe me one, then," he said, chopping on merrily.

She nodded him off and snatched a piece of tomato from the board. That time would come.

 **xxxx**

They sat and ate leisurely from the couch, Kate's body still more comfortable there than most anywhere else, until the orange light from the afternoon sun faded into a hue of soft purple. The glass along the back of the house offered them an enviable view, each window framing a section of the sky like watercolor paintings hung in an art gallery, though neither seemed terribly drawn by the show, their focus largely absorbed in each other, albeit in most furtive fashion. The shift in the energy between them since his arrival was palpable, like the dynamic transition from day to night, both floating now in some fresh incarnation of them, though neither had yet given it voice.

"You sure I can't get you some more?" Rick asked, eyeing her empty plate with a self-satisfied smirk. "See what good can come of relinquishing a bit of control?"

"Okay, Emeril," Kate jabbed, "is that how you impress women, you boil them water and cut up a tomato for them?"

Rick dropped his mouth open exaggeratedly. "You wound me, Katherine. I did not simply _cut up_ your tomato, I sliced it elegantly, and that water left your pasta perfectly al dente, thank you very much." He reached for his glass and foolishly downed too large a sip, leaving him to awkwardly attempt to clear the cough from his throat. "Wait a sec," he sputtered, "did you just admit you were impressed?"

"Might want to check a few more of those pipes, Castle. I'm not sure what you thought you heard, but I admitted no such thing."

He dipped his head meekly and washed down the dismissal with another gulp. "Okay, so, let's just say, hypothetically speaking, a guy like me wanted to impress a gal like you," he began in typical Richard Castle pushing-the-envelope style. "Any tips or pointers or suggestions you might be able to offer?"

Warmth filled her cheeks and she smiled without giving it away. "You mean besides trying to jump in front of a sniper's bullet for her?" Her arm grazed his as she pushed her plate away and her skin electrified. "Or being a loyal partner or a wonderful father or a talented artist?" She inched closer and he sat forward to meet her. "Or forgiving her for hurting you because that's not something she ever wanted to do?"

His eyes wandered to her lips and she remained close. "Detective," he said out of playful habit, a quaver in his voice, "my brain is walking a very fine line at the moment - well, for a very long time, actually, but that's not… - anyway, I don't want to make you uncomf-"

"Castle," she interrupted, "I really don't want to hide anymore." She leaned in and kissed his lips, brief and soft. "It's too hard," she whispered as her forehead met his.

"I'm curious, here. If I asked you to pinch me right now, would that seem inappropriate?" Rick wondered dreamily into the hush that followed.

"Maybe another time, Castle," Kate quipped, taking his hand. "Right now, I want cookies. My dad brought them up from Levain. You want some?"

"Sure, yeah," Rick agreed, "though I think you're going to have to bring them to me because I can't feel my legs right now." Her kiss had rendered him utterly useless, both physically and mentally.

She released his hand and pushed herself up off the couch. "Least I can do after that feast," she teased with a wink and headed off for the kitchen.

 **xxxx**

"Thank you for sharing," Rick said as he brushed the stray crumbs from his shirt and sighed in satisfaction. They sat arm-to-arm on the couch, dessert offering an excuse but not the reason, and he wanted desperately to feel her lips against his again. His second taste of her had come and gone far too quickly and his first was too long past, and of all the moments they'd shared alone together, none felt more perfect than the one they were in.

"You talking about the cookies or something else, Castle?" she asked, opening the door enough for him to peer in.

"Well, I suppose in keeping with the day's theme of potentially humiliating confessions, my answer would have to be both. And I might as well add to that the fact that I can finally feel all of my body parts again after that..." He snapped his head towards her as the blush hit his cheeks. "I mean, not _all_ of my...I didn't...I just...more cookies?"

Kate managed to swallow the laugh that nearly found its way to the surface. "Am I making you nervous, Castle, because you seem nervous?"

He had no idea why, but they suddenly flashed across his mind again as he struggled to formulate an answer that sounded remotely plausible given his idiotic bumbling. "You make me curious, actually."

"Curious, huh," she said with a crooked brow. "Okay, I'll bite. How so?"

"Are those my flowers hanging on the wall in the bathroom?" Her face changed instantly, as though, like one of her suspects, she'd been caught and didn't know quite what to say next, and he suddenly felt horrible for bringing them up. "I'm sorry, forget I said anything. You don't have to answer that."

"I wasn't sure you'd remember," she replied, choosing not to accept his pass.

He chuckled, not in mocking but rather in judgment of his own cowardice for never having made her understand how immeasurably important she'd become to his life. "You weren't sure I'd remember everything about the first time I saw you after some of the worst days of my life?" He stretched his arm out along the top of the couch. "That moment, Kate, opening that door to your hospital room and seeing you after what'd happened, is one that, I can assure you, will never, ever leave me."

Her eyes drifted to the hallway as he spoke, as though she was attempting to draw strength from the keepsake hidden there. "I wanted you to know, Castle. I wanted to tell you so badly that day. You say that moment was important for you, but for me, it changed my life."

"How?" Rick asked without even a breath to consider whether or not he should.

"I knew I couldn't be with Josh anymore after that." She turned and met his eye. "And that I had to finally admit to myself and to face why that was."

"I'm really going to miss him, by the way. Shame I didn't get to say a proper goodbye." His eyes grew wide. "Ooo! Maybe I'll send him some flowers," he wisecracked with a contented smile. "Too soon?"

Kate gave him a look and he offered an apology, albeit one oozing insincerity. "I'll miss him too. He's a good man, Castle." Rick nodded, knowing it was true. "But he's not you," she said, biting gently at her lower lip. "And the truth is that I'm in love with you. That's what I know every time I see those flowers, or one of your books on the shelf, or open my eyes in the morning, and not saying it out loud hasn't made it untrue, so, there, now I've said it."

Rick couldn't catch his breath. His heart was beating like he'd just run an Olympic sprint. "Did you just-"

"So, do I still owe you one, Castle," she said, audibly proud of the articulation she'd held back for so long, "or will that make us even?"

He moved his hand from the back of the couch and drew his thumb along her cheek, settled his fingers in her hair. "How about this: you let me make you breakfast and _then_ we'll call it even."

Kate leaned into him, her lips nearly brushing his ear. "Just so you know, I like to stay in bed late on the weekend," she whispered.

He smiled and drew her mouth to his. "Oh, I think the chef can honor your special request, Detective," he said, and he kissed her deeply.

 _End_


End file.
